


Inked

by Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Crack-ish, Gen, Just Tattoo of Us AU, Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse - Freeform, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons - Freeform, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: “You would never.”Fitz turned his head to look at Hunter, squinting at his best mate as he did his best to ignore the unsettled feeling in his stomach. He had a feeling Jemma would be upset with him when he got home, but the several pints worth of ale in his belly were making it easy to forget his girlfriend’s potential ire. He had something to prove.“I absolutely would.”He watched as Hunter gave him a considering look, his tongue poking against his cheek for a moment before taking another pull of his Bendeery’s and nodding.“All right then. I’ll set it up. All you’ll have to do is say yes when they call, yeah?”Fitz lifted his own bottle to clink against his and took another pull, trusting his best mate to know it meant his full agreement.
Relationships: Leo Fitz & Lance Hunter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15





	Inked

**Author's Note:**

> You can blame all of the clips of Just Tattoo of Us on Facebook for this gem. I just couldn't stop wondering what would happen if Fitz and Hunter went on this show, and I have no doubt that Hunter would try to help Fitz out and Fitz would try to prove a point.
> 
> If you want to know what Fitz' tattoo looks like: https://i.pinimg.com/236x/bf/50/16/bf50163b3594c89d2c237475af2f8f98--stag-tattoo-deer-tatoo.jpg

“You would never.”

Fitz turned his head to look at Hunter, squinting at his best mate as he did his best to ignore the unsettled feeling in his stomach. He had a feeling Jemma would be upset with him when he got home, but the several pints worth of ale in his belly were making it easy to forget his girlfriend’s potential ire. He had something to  _ prove _ . 

“I absolutely would.”

He watched as Hunter gave him a considering look, his tongue poking against his cheek for a moment before taking another pull of his Bendeery’s and nodding. 

“All right then. I’ll set it up. All you’ll have to do is say yes when they call, yeah?”

Fitz lifted his own bottle to clink against his and took another pull, trusting his best mate to know it meant his full agreement. 

~*~

Looking back, Fitz had no idea what the hell he’d been thinking. 

He had even less of an idea what Jemma had been thinking to not bail him out of this, but she hadn’t and here he was. His right pec was stinging and he felt awfully out of place standing around without his shirt on in block-out goggles. The air in the studio was cool and he was all too aware of the cameraman circling around him, trying to get the best shot as his tattoo artist took off the dressing. 

Fitz sighed and nibbled at his bottom lip, doing his best to not jostle the man while he worked. It wasn’t his fault he was here. He’d made a stupid drunken bet with Hunter and then hadn’t had the stones to back out. Now he’d walk around with whatever terrible tattoo had been selected for him until he could save up enough money to get it altered somehow. He tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that at least it would be well done. Fitz had looked through his artist’s book and had been impressed with the artistic skill on display if nothing else. There was his silver lining. 

“All right, Leo,” he cringed at the use of his given name but didn’t bother correcting her lest he prolong his time on camera shirtless, “are you ready to take off your goggles?”

Unable to find his tongue, Fitz just nodded. 

“Okay, take them off and see what Lance gave you.”

He fumbled with the heavy paint-splattered goggles for a moment but eventually got them off, letting them drop to his side in a loose hold. Fitz had to blink against the sudden presence of studio lighting but quickly rebounding, taking a step toward the mirror so he could better look at the design. 

It took him a long moment to finally decipher all of the thin black lines, but when he finally saw it he gasped. Hunter had done  _ well _ . 

The stag - half geometric and half realistic - sat well on him, paying homage to his heritage and interests with ease. As desperate as he was to regain his shirt to keep from being exposed to all of the UK, Fitz could stop staring at himself in the mirror. It looked phenomenal, and he found that he was even a little excited to get home and show it to Jemma. 

“Well, come on, mate,” Hunter called out to him from where he was standing next to the host. “Tell us what you think. The suspense is enough to kill me already.”

Dread solidified and sank in his stomach. 

Hunter was absolutely going to kill him. 

~*~

“All right, Lance. Now it’s your turn.” 

Fitz struggled not to fidget from where he was watching Hunter take his place in front of the mirror, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. That was about to change in a big way. He glanced around the room, looking for any possible escape in case his friend decided to come after him. 

“Put on your goggles and let’s get your artist out here to get you ready.”

It was the longest few minutes of his life as he watched Hunter stand patiently as the tattooer worked on his left arm. Even from where he was, Fitz could see the bright reds and yellow ink and felt a giddy thrill mix with his dread. It was a beautiful piece of work. He just hoped Hunter would see that when everything was said and done. 

“Goggles off.”

Fitz sucked in a breath and cautiously inched closer as Hunter turned to look at his arm. He watched as his friend’s wide smile quickly deflated as he leaned toward the mirror. It was only once he was practically leaning against the glass that he turned to look at him, his expression disbelieving. 

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Er,” Fitz said drawing up short, “are y’  _ uncertain  _ what it is?”

“I think it’s the bloody Manchester crest.”

“Well,” Fitz said daring to grin, “y’ aren’t as thick as y’ look then. That’s exactly what it is.”

“What. The. Hell?!”

There was a terrifying moment when he thought Hunter was going to lunge at him and Fitz felt the muscles in his legs bunch, ready to sprint away if needed. Instead, his friend whirled back on the mirror and started to pull at his bicep, stretching the skin beneath the tattoo tight as though it would cause it to morph into something more pleasing to him. His face twisted in dismay when he realized that wouldn’t happen. 

“This is such utter shite!” he exclaimed turning back to Fitz. “Everyone will think I’m one of  _ you  _ now. No decent woman will want to touch me!”

Fitz watched him with wide eyes, his lower lip caught between his teeth to keep from making a comment about no decent woman wanting him now. He liked Bobbi and wanted to stay on her good side. 

“C’mon, mate, it’s not that bad--”

“Not that bad?” Hunter did turn on him now, getting close enough to make Fitz a little leery of what might happen next. “I have the Man U crest on my bloody arm. Where anyone could see it. It’s humiliating!”

“Oh please!” Fitz shouted, unable to contain himself further. “They’re the better team and y’ know it! Y’ should be  _ happy  _ that’s what I had put on y’. At least now people will think y’ support someone  _ good _ !”

“Oi!” Hunter pushed at Fitz’ chest, catching him just on the edge of the fresh tattoo and making him hiss. “I gave you something  _ brilliant _ , and you gave me this! At least when Jemma sees yours she’ll  _ want  _ to shag you; I’ll just look like every other git that started supporting Manchester when Beckham’s nancy arse showed up!”

“Don’t y’ dare--”

“All right, that’s enough, boys.” Fitz found his words frozen in his throat as Charlotte came between them and gently nudged them apart. “You don’t want to throw away your friendship over this, do you?”

She looked between the two of them, but Fitz’ eyes stayed on Hunter’s face. He suddenly feared that he’d gone too far and that Hunter wouldn’t be able to laugh this off. Dread knotted his stomach and he was just about to open his mouth and apologize when he saw his friend relax. After another impossibly long moment, Hunter shook his head and Fitz felt the last of the tension leech out of his muscles.

“No, no I don’t,” he said with a smile. “Although I have to confess, I nearly gave you the Liverpool crest.”

“What?” Fitz huffed out a laugh. “No way.”

“Yeah, I nearly did, mate,” Hunter said, stepping around Charlotte to clap Fitz on the shoulder. “I was just afraid that Jemma would come after me if you were too upset about it.”

“Nah,” he said as he shook his head. Fitz was dimly aware that Charlotte was addressing the camera directly now, clearly eager to move on now that any drama between the two had been quelled. “She would have just told me t’ quit actin’ like an idiot and get it fixed.”

“Yeah? Well, since you brought it up… Guess what you’re getting me for my birthday this year?”

“Couldn’t be a cover-up, could it?”

“It absolutely is.” Hunter clapped him on the shoulder again and led him toward the exit one of the producers was pointing to. “C’mon. Let me buy you a pint and tell you exactly how you’ll be making this up to me.”


End file.
